Renaissance
by DeeMG
Summary: How much would really be different, if there had been five little turtles in the glass bowl that day? Renet thinks she knows the answer, and sets out to prove it - no matter how much or who it hurts. Mirage-verse, sequel to Sceptres and Strategies
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: a semi-sequel to _Sceptres and Strategies_, and my own response to the perpetual question: "What if there was a fifth turtle...?"

**Renaissance **

**In the beginning…**

"Just what do you think you're doing, young lady?" Lord Simultaneous' voice boomed across his private library.

Renet jumped and spun around. "N-nothing, Master! Honest!" She gave him a faltering smile.

The Lord of Time eyed his leggy apprentice suspiciously. She was clad in her night clothes, and he wasn't sure that the knee-length shirt and fuzzy slippers were an improvement on the ridiculous cloak and hat that he normally made her wear during the day. "It's the middle of the night. You should either be asleep, or out partying with your friends while you tell them how I'm an evil ogre who makes you dust antiques for eons. 'Cause the Everlasting knows, there's no way you'd be doing something as prosaic as studying at this hour." He squinted at the table behind the girl, and barked, "What are you hiding there?"

"Nothing – nothing important," she squeaked. She moved her hands, trying to make herself wide enough to cover up her late-night project.

There wasn't enough of her to cover it, though. "That's the Bowl of Infinite Options. I expressly told you not to touch that, even to dust it! What are you doing, foolish girl?"

"I-I…see, master, a demon told me to…"

He held up one hand. "Stop! No matter what else you might do, vixen, while you are my apprentice _you will not lie to me!_ Understand?"

"I…yes, Master," she scuffed the floor with one slippered foot and sighed. "See, it's like this. After my test the other time, when the Turtles were at that monastery and all those people were sick and fighting and stuff? Like, Leo is sooo ticked off at me. You saw him, right? He's, like, never going to let me near them ever again! But they're my friends, and they're still at the early part of their lives, and I want to be able to…well, like, I thought if I made life better for them from the beginning, maybe Leo wouldn't be mad at me anymore, and we'd be friends. Yes?" She blinked at him hopefully.

Lord Simultaneous looked back at her, lips pressing together. There was a lot to learn, if one wanted to become a true Lord of Time, and Renet already had a lot of work on her plate. If he understood what she was doing, then this wasn't a lesson he'd planned to teach her anytime soon – at least, not until she'd learned the basics of Temporal Pattern Reading! But if she was going down this path, he was determined to make it memorable for her. "Go on," he said neutrally.

"Okay, so," Renet fumbled for words. Then she fumbled for the Bowl instead. She held it up between herself and her master, apparently unaware of the way the stone carvings around the edge of the Bowl writhed and strained to get closer to her fingers. "I thought, Leo's whole 'thing' in his life is how he's, like, totally devoted to his family, right? So if I could make that family a little bit bigger, maybe by giving him back one of his brothers that he lost…?"

"Oh, no you don't, young lady!" he snapped, reaching for the Bowl. "I've told you so many times, it should be able to get into even your empty head: you do NOT bring back the dead – "

"No, of course not!" she snapped back, pulling the Bowl back over one shoulder and glaring at him. "I'm not, like, totally stupid! I know I can't undo what happens at the end for them, though I really wish you'd let me do something about Mikey's, um…anyway, that wasn't my plan."

He tilted his head at her, hands falling back to his sides. This wasn't exactly what he'd expected. Maybe it was a completely different lesson that he'd have to teach tonight. "Okay, so spill it already! Or I'll just ground you for another year."

Renet took a deep breath, and looked into the Bowl. Lights flickered out of the seemingly-empty surface, splashing colors across her face, and she smiled. Then she looked directly at her master. "I'm going to give him the brother who should have been with them all along."

"Don't," he surprised both of them with the gentle pleading in his tone. "Girl, listen to me. You don't know how much pain you will cause, instead of taking it away."

She shook her head. "What pain? There should have been five Turtles, is all. And besides, I've already started it." The lights flickered again, more brightly.

Lord Simultaneous sighed, and stepped forward to lay his hands over hers. "Fine, then," he said, feeling the stone curl up around both of their fingers, binding them to each other and to the Bowl for the duration of the magics she'd cast. "Then let me show you exactly how bad an idea this really is." He hoped that he could at least guide her – and the small family she meddled with – away from complete disaster. If everything went as badly as he feared it might, his own skills just might be enough to salvage something out of this terrible idea.

* * *

><p>A small red-eared slider sunned himself on a flat rock in an aquarium, blissfully alone and out of the crowd of dozens of siblings on the mossy floor inches below him. Climbing the rock was quite an accomplishment, and few members of his clutch were big enough to do it yet. Most of them still crawled in and out of the shallow pool of water, contenting themselves with the weaker sunlight that filtered down to the artificial shore next to their tiny "pond." He would be proud of himself, if he had the ability to feel pride.<p>

He did feel a certain contentment, though, as the heat seeped into his shell. So far, he had many good things to enjoy, like clean water, plentiful food, and sunny heat to lay in when he wanted it. He regarded the movement on the other side of the flat glass with a complete lack of concern – in his scant few weeks of life, nothing that happened outside the aquarium had ever touched his idyllic life inside it, or so he believed.

That was all about to change.

"Chet, I think that's enough turtles."

"But Mom said I could have four or five," Chet clutched the small glass bowl to his chest and smiled up at his father in a way that usually meant he'd get what he wanted. "Please?"

Before the harried father could decide, the pet shop clerk smiled – he'd been flirting with a pretty blonde girl, and it made him happy with the entire world – and reached back into the aquarium one last time. "Here ya go!"

The sunning red-eared slider withdrew into his shell in fright at finding himself airborne in the clerk's hand. The cool air outside of his little world hit him, and he uttered a tiny "Meep!" of distress. The clerk didn't hear it, though. Neither did a grinning Chet, as the fifth turtle was deposited into the glass bowl. The other four did, though, and answered with tiny distress sounds of their own. This new place was cold, and there was no water, no food, no sun! Only siblings who crowded into the slippery floor of this scary place. They scrambled over each other or tucked themselves into their shells, unhappy and wary.

Chet, though, was thrilled with his birthday gift. He held the bowl up to the light and turned it around, looking at his new pets from all angles through the glass. "What should I name them, Dad?"

"Whatever you want," his father shrugged, tucking the receipt into his pocket. "That's one of the good parts of having pets: you get to pick their names."

"There's five of them – maybe I should name them after the Power Rangers!" Chet was even more excited about this idea.

"What, Red Ranger, Green Ranger, that sort of thing?" His father was amused, his irritation at being conned into buying one more pet fading at last. He hefted up a small bag of supplies they would need to get the turtles set up in their new home and opened the pet shop door, letting Chet out into the summer sunlight. The rain that had poured steadily all morning showed no sign of coming back that afternoon, and the city smelled as fresh as it ever did. Water still drained along the curbs.

"No," Chet said, with all the scorn that an eight-year-old can muster. "I mean, Billy, and Zack, and…hey, are any of them girls?" He held the bowl up and squinted at the turtles' yellow undersides with one eye. "How can you tell?"

"Er," now that was a new worry. Chet's father made a mental note to get some books about turtles out of the library a.s.a.p., and took a breath to change the subject.

Heavy brakes squealed, far too close for comfort. Someone in front of them screamed. In pure reflex, Chet's father yanked the boy backwards by his shirt collar –

- Chet's glass bowl, containing his precious turtles, flew out of his hands with the force of his father's panicked pull. For just one second, the five baby turtles could be seen, floating in the empty air inside their bowl -

- and then the bowl smashed into something that had flown off the screaming truck, and they were gone. The broken bowl, and all five turtles, fell into the stream of water at the curb and were washed away into a nearby storm drain.

Chet burst into tears.

* * *

><p>"Aww, it's gonna be okay, little guy!" Renet crooned at the image of the small boy in the surface of the bowl. "Didja see me there, master? I was in the shop! That guy, he gave the boy five turtles, because of me!"<p>

"Renet," Lord Simultaneous began, totally uninterested in his apprentice's ability to flirt with people, "how, exactly, did you think this was going to play out? What were you expecting?" His voice was dangerously calm – though he suspected that his apprentice still had no idea what she'd started, even seeing it play out in front of her.

"There're five of them now!" Renet said proudly. "You saw it – the guy at the shop gave the boy a fifth turtle! Leo's gonna be so thrilled when he finds out – "

"And how will he find out?" the Lord of Time let the irritation creep back into his voice. "How, exactly, will he know that he has one more brother than he should have had? Were you planning to just march up and tell him?"

"Er…yes?" Renet shrank a little bit. "I mean…I guess so…?"

Lord Simultaneous regarded her for a long, flat moment. "You guess so?"

Renet bit her lip and looked away. The Bowl, still holding itself tightly to their fingers, wavered a little bit in the air between them. The colors flickered wildly.

"Young lady, you are in worlds of trouble. You don't understand what you've set in motion, or how much destruction you've caused with this…childish meddling!" he spat. The Bowl began to vibrate with the combined force of his anger and the demands of the spell.

"I just…I wanted them to be, to be, I dunno…happy?" Tears filled Renet's eyes. Her satisfaction vaporized completely. She wailed, "They're my friends!"

"Are they?" Simultaneous' voice was flatly dangerous. "Do you really understand what you've done to them – what you've done to everyone they know – just now?"

The tears spilled over. She couldn't blot them or wipe them away, not while her hands were bound to the Bowl of Infinite Options.

"Well," he said at last, "you've started it. Let's see exactly how bad it's going to get, for them and for everyone else."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Toddlers**

"Masser Spinter?"

Splinter sighed, and gave up on the idea of meditating for the day. When he'd moved his small but boisterous family to these abandoned rooms far below a subway station, he had thought that the room to run and play without constant parental supervision would be a good thing for the boys. And it would be an even better thing for him! He was looking forward to the chance to delve more deeply into the mental disciplines that he remembered from his life with Hamato Yoshi, even if he could do so for only a few minutes at a time while the boys, now three years old, were amusing themselves with their few toys and games. But even after living there for months, it appeared that the boys were not ready to be left alone to play, even for five minutes. "What is it, my son?"

Michaelangelo sniffed as he took two faltering steps into Master Splinter's room. The corners of his mouth turned down. His arms were wrapped around a ragged, sagging, one-eared plush rabbit that had probably been blue when it was new, decades earlier; Splinter had scavenged it from a boarded-up apartment building. "They bein' mean to me 'gain," he explained loudly.

"Nu-uh!" Another voice from just outside the doorway.

"Raphael, use words," Splinter called in a mild rebuke.

The other Turtle appeared in the open space at the sound of his name. "We not mean! He's keepin' it! All by hisself!" He pointed an accusatory finger at the rabbit.

Splinter rose to his feet as gracefully as he could. "Are you boys fighting over your toys again?" It was to be expected from toddlers, of course, but that didn't mean he wanted it to continue.

Michaelangelo nodded, his face twisted into a pout, forgetting that Splinter had told them what he would do the next time they fought over toys.

"Ye – no! Not fightin'!" Raphael backpedaled as he realized the enormity of their mistake. "No fightin'!"

"I think you are," Splinter told them gently, and pulled the rabbit free.

Michaelangelo's eyes widened, and he started to cry in earnest. Raphael looked from his brother to the precious toy, his face crumpling as Splinter took the rabbit away and tucked it into a makeshift closet.

"You boys cannot have toys that make you fight with each other," he reminded them again. "If you fight over your toys, then the toys must go away for a while."

"How long is 'a while'?" Raphael bargained. He blinked back his own tears. "'til tonight? 'til bed?"

"I do not know how long it will be," Splinter herded them out the door of his room, so they wouldn't be tempted to try the door of the closet for themselves. "It will depend on how long you can be good, and not fight over your toys. What are your brothers doing?"

The two boys drifted back into the main room. Raphael sniffled, and Michaelangelo wailed openly as they walked.

Brunelleschi and Leonardo looked up from the spot on the floor where they were sharing a coloring book. Donatello was too deeply intent on his own drawing – something large and sprawling which threatened to completely cover the open newspaper pages he was using – to notice that the rabbit was gone. Michaelangelo threw himself down on the floor next to Leonardo and sobbed his grief into his brother's shell; Raphael sat down heavily next to Brunelleschi and stared at his feet while he sniffed back his own tears.

Splinter did not comfort them. It would be a better lesson if they learned to deal with these disappointments themselves, he decided. Life had been very hard for the little family for all of the short time it had existed and it very likely would always be that hard. Sometimes Splinter sometimes went without food, in order to make sure there was enough for his brood; when even that wasn't enough, they all went hungry. When they fell ill, ragged blankets, hot baths, and anxious embraces were the only treatments available. They would need to be strong, his sons, in order to simply survive. And so he did not coddle them. "I will make dinner, and then it will be story time," he told them instead, and headed for the tiny kitchen.

While he cooked the simple dinner that was all his supplies would allow, Splinter took inventory. What he saw made him frown in concern. _I will have to make another foraging trip soon,_ he ran his fingers over the shabby labels of the scavenged items in the makeshift pantry. _I pray that they will sleep through my absence this time!_ On the rare occasions when he took too long to scrounge up their food, he always came home to panicked children; it took hours to calm all five of them down on those mornings.

Five of them…Splinter glanced down at the wobbly-legged dining table, and blinked in surprise. While he thought about groceries, his body had automatically continued through the motions of preparing for dinner, and now he realized that he had only put out five place settings on the table – one for himself, and four more for the children. "Fool," he scolded himself, and went back for another set of chopsticks and small dishes. "You have had five children for almost three years now; please try to remember that!"

* * *

><p>"I think it's gonna be okay," Renet whispered down at the surface of the Bowl. "Look – they're growing up! Just like they should…"<p>

Simultaneous gave her an incredulous look. He longed to slap her; she was being so deliberately stupid! "Didn't you hear what the Rat just said? He knows something's wrong, even though he doesn't know what it might be – he has trouble remembering that there are five of them! Because there aren't supposed to be five!"

"He's old, he forgets things!" Renet countered. Her chin came up. "It's like, when my grandma can't remember my name – that's all!"

Her Master's hand twitched against the bindings of the Bowl.

"It's gonna be okay!" Renet repeated, a little desperately.

"No," Simultaneous said flatly. "It won't be. But obviously even the Bowl of Infinite Options doesn't think you've learned your lesson, since it won't let us go."

Renet shook the Bowl between her hands uselessly. "So how long does this last?"

"Until you've seen the full scope of what you've changed," he glowered at her. "That is…until we know exactly how much, and how badly, you screwed everything up."

"I didn't screw anything up!"

"You did!" he shouted over her protest. She shrank back even further, pulling the Bowl between them. "You've set things in motion that will reverberate throughout the universe!"

"Th-that's a little bit of an overstatement, M-master, isn't it?" she quavered.

He could only glare at her, rendered speechless by her refusal to see the scope of what she'd done.

* * *

><p>Splinter ran his hand over the face of the little Turtle tucked into his bed and frowned anxiously. The child was so hot! And he whimpered and clutched at his stomach periodically, bent double with the pain of the persistent stomach cramps.<p>

_I must find a way to get some medicine for him!_ Splinter decided.

Life was dangerous for the small family. He thought that he had accepted that knowledge long ago. But it was easy to think philosophically about such things when his children were playing safely at his feet and there was plenty of wholesome food in his makeshift pantry – and not so easy to think it when one of those children was ill with a fever and an upset stomach!

"Leo sick?" a small voice said at his elbow.

Splinter looked down in surprise. He hadn't even heard the footsteps coming close! "Yes, Brunelleschi, your brother is sick. But you must stay in your bed as well, so you do not catch the same illness."

The child didn't move at the hint. His amber eyes stayed fixed on the lump under Splinter's quilt. "Leo sick," he said quietly, a statement this time instead of a question. He pondered this for a moment, resisting Splinter's hand on his shoulder. Then he looked up at his father, frowning. "Fix him?"

_Fix_ – it was Donatello's new favorite word. And his new favorite activity, truth be told. The toddler spent hours drawing fanciful things on paper, things that he explained to his father (in the half-verbal, half-gesture language of small children) would 'fix' certain problems only he could see. Splinter didn't quite understand why, for example, Donatello wanted to fix the bed the children shared, but sympathized completely with his son's crayon drawing of a machine that would give them any food they wanted!

Brunelleschi had apparently absorbed his brother's belief in the power of this small word. "Needa fix Leo," he said firmly.

"I must go and get something that will help him," Splinter tried to explain. "You and your brothers must stay in your bed until I return. Do you understand?"

The Turtle nodded solemnly. "Stay in bed. Keep Raphie 'n Mikey 'n Donnie inna bed."

Splinter escorted the child back to the nest of blankets that the children shared and saw him tucked into it with the other three. "Stay in bed," he said firmly, before he headed out on his errand. There was a well-stocked herbalist's shop many blocks away, deep in the heart of Manhattan's Chinatown. Splinter had scoped out the shop and its security months earlier, fearing that the day might come when he would need things that he could not get any other way. Now it was time to act on those plans, and do whatever was necessary to save his son's life!

He returned four hours later, breathless with parental terrors – what could have gone wrong in his absence? Were the children still safe?

The silence that greeted his arrival only made things worse. He swept the open, main area of the house with an anxious eye. A stray blanket lay draped across the edge of the kitchen table. The kitchen faucet dripped. The tiny nightlight that he kept in the main area near the Turtles' bed showed him that it was empty, all children and blankets stripped away from the bare mattress.

_What has happened here?_

Splinter stepped into his own room, heart beating too fast with his fears. The candle near his bed had long since guttered out, and the light from the main room was not enough to light the corner near his bed. With a shaking hand, he pulled another candle out of his meager stockpile, reached for a match, and lit it.

The soft glow fell over the tumbled, tangled bodies of all five of his sons. Leonardo lay in the middle of the pile, tucked between Raphael and Donatello. Michaelangelo was curled against Raphael's shell, and Brunelleschi was wedged into the space at the head of the bed so that he could keep one hand on Leonardo while they all slept.

Splinter breathed out his terrors and set down his stolen bags of herbs so he could check on them. Leonardo's fever still burned, but less intensely. The other children slept heavily, barely stirring as their father checked on them. Brunelleschi, though, cracked open one eye when he felt Splinter's hands. "Kep' 'em inna bed," he slurred tiredly.

"Yes, you did," Splinter assured him. There was no point in being angry at the way his order had been interpreted. It wasn't what he had hoped for when he left. He could only hope that the fever which had attacked Leonardo wouldn't spread to the others. He picked up the paper bags full of herbs and turned to the kitchen to boil water and start the herbal brew which would – he hoped – bring an end to the illness.

* * *

><p>"Aw, the little guy is so sick!" Renet marveled. She looked up at Simultaneous as a thought struck her. "They can't just go get some medicine, can they?"<p>

He gritted his teeth. "No. You foolish girl, did you never think of that?"

"Well, no," she blinked down at the Bowl's surface. "I just never…I mean, that time when I met them and we went to fight in the bad old days, _everybody_ was just grody and sick and stuff, and I just…And then, they live in New York City and all, right? I mean, if you can get it anywhere in the world, you can get it there! The City That Never Sleeps and all, right? I mean…I guess I just never thought…like, they had to grow up kinda…poor, and all." She wound down, frowning in thought.

Simultaneous wanted to kick her. "You never thought about that? You never considered that it was hard enough for a mutant rat to keep himself fed and sheltered, and it was really stretching his resources to the breaking point to do the same for four helpless children, before you decided to drop a fifth child in his lap? You didn't even think about the most basic things before you cast this spell?"

"No, I guess not," Renet admitted.

The Bowl flickered brightly at her.

Simultaneous shook his head. "I don't even know what to do with you," he told her flatly. "But it looks like we still have a lot to see, about the ways in which you've changed their lives…and probably not for the better!"


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Childhood**

(A/N: The first part of this chapter is adapted from Tales of the TMNT, Vol. 2, #38, written by Murphy. It's one of my favorite Mirage canon stories about their childhood. Most of the dialogue is verbatim from that book, whenever possible.)

* * *

><p>Splinter nodded approvingly at the sight: five little Turtles, moving in sync through the steps of the crane technique ("The bird, not the construction machine," he clarified; living in the city had given them a different idea of <em>crane<em> than the old masters intended!), all five wooden _bokken_ moving together in clean, steady moves. "Very good, my sons." He nodded to release them from their pose and from the morning's training session.

Raphael, his eyes lighting up with mischief, broke the pose just as his brothers were gathering themselves to bow. "Hsst, Leo!" He swept the _bokken_ sideways at the sibling standing next to him.

Leonardo crashed backwards to the ground as the _bokken_ swept his left leg out from under him, and jumped up, scowling.

"I saw that, Raphael," Splinter said mildly. It wasn't enough to warrant punishment – the boys were still learning their limits, and spent much of their free time wrestling and rough-housing. Leonardo was unhurt, after all, and immediately set about making faces at his brother, who was delighted to do the same. Besides, Splinter's attention was claimed mostly by the other three children who ran up to him after their hasty bows.

"Master, can we go out and play pirates?" Brunelleschi hopped from foot to foot, the hilt of the _bokken_ still clutched in both hands.

"Yeah, can we? Please, master, please?" Michaelangelo added.

Donatello took the practice weapons out of their hands and put them away properly. "We won't go far, sensei. Just around the corner."

"Very well, my sons," Splinter smiled. It would be good for all of them, if the boys would go "outside" to the safe area he'd marked out for them in the tunnels. He wanted to spend some time alone, planning the rest of the lessons for the week and doing some practice of his own. "But be vigilant! There have been no humans in this tunnel for many years, but they may return at any time. And do not go past the boundary sign I have placed for you!"

"Yay!" Brunelleschi and Michaelangelo slapped their hands together, in that odd gesture that they had learned from somewhere – Splinter suspected they watched too much television when he was away, foraging for supplies – while Donatello ran for the toy chest in their bedroom.

"Avast! 'Tis Davey Jones' locker!" Donatello emerged with a tiny boat and its related remote control. The boat sported a large "sail", made from a scrap of an old blanket, which had been painted with a skull-and-crossbones.

Splinter turned to Leonardo. "Watch them, and see that they do not get into any mischief," he asked.

Leonardo smiled, pleased at the hint that he was in charge over his brothers. "Yes, sensei."

All five of them raced out the door and into the tunnels.

Splinter watched them go, shaking his head in fond dismay over their boundless energy. "Kids…"

"You know what we need?" Brunelleschi hopped over the low wall of fallen rocks that marked the edge of their "outside" play area, nimbly avoiding Raphael's attempt to shove him over it instead. "We need some eye patches and pirate hats!"

"Arrrgh! Arrr!" Michaelangelo agreed.

"Avast, me hearties!" Donatello pointed up at the hand-painted wooden sign that hung from hooks in the tunnel ceiling. "A message to curdle ye very blood! This is the Forbidden Zone!"

Raphael's eyes flicked up to the sign, which displayed Master Splinter's warning message – "Forbidden! Turn back, my sons!" – and he waved a dismissive hand at it. "A sign? We don't need no steenkin' sign!"

"Seriously, guys," Leonardo broke in. "This is as far as we go, and we really ought to keep it down."

" 'Keep it down, guys!' " Raphael mocked. "Like we need you tellin' us that every time, Leo!"

Donatello ignored the developing quarrel, and knelt at the edge of the cement shelf to place the toy boat carefully into the water. "Hey, Mikey, Bruno – the H.M.S. Terrapin Terror, scourge of the seven seas, is ready to set sail!"

"Let me play with it!" Brunelleschi reached over Donatello's shoulder and shoved the tiny joystick on the remote forward. "Avast! We search for the treasure of the Dread Pirate Roberts, my lads!"

"Cowabunga!" Michaelanagelo shouted, throwing both arms up.

"Radio control works like a charm…" Donatello murmured happily, his eyes alight with pride over the tiny boat he'd repaired, from the stash of scavenged toys that Splinter gathered for them when he could.

Raphael ran over to the edge to stand next to them. "Speaking of scourges…" He hefted a fist-sized piece of rock, and grinned broadly. "Watch this!" He threw the rock as hard as he could into the water right next to the toy boat. "Release the Kraken!"

The little boat skittered across the surface of the water, pushed by the force of the waves that exploded outward from the impact. Raphael laughed wildly, making echoes ring around them in the barrel-vaulted area.

"I thought I told you to keep it down!" Leonardo hissed. He smacked his brother on the shell in his aggravation.

"Uh-oh," Donatello yanked the remote control out of Brunelleschi's hands and worked the little joystick with increasing anxiety. "The Terrapin Terror's not responding! The waves caused by Raph's rock must pushed it out of range." He worked the control again, and sighed. "Yup. No response."

"We'll have to go get it back," Leonardo decided, casting one more angry look at Raphael. "We can't let someone find it and maybe come looking to see where it came from."

"I'll get it!" Brunelleschi raised his hand. "Hang on – " and without a pause, he threw himself off the edge and into the deep water.

"Bruno!" Leonardo shouted. "What are you thinking, get back here!"

Michaelangelo shrugged. "Might as well let him do it now, bro. It's too late. He's already wet."

"It's not that he's wet – it's that the water's too dangerous here! We're not supposed to go in it for anything," Leonardo took off running along the cement ledge, following Brunelleschi's route in the water. His face was tight with concentration. "It looks all calm on the surface, but it's got a strong current underneath. It'll sweep him away!"

Twenty feet away, Brunelleschi caught up with the toy boat. He worked himself around until he was blocking it from sailing into another tunnel, and smacked it to send it back in the direction it had come from. "Here, Donnie!" He began drifting backwards, and looked around in confusion.

Donatello reflexively used the remote control to steer the boat back as soon as it came in range. Michaelangelo ran after Leonardo. "Leo? What are we gonna do?"

"We'll grab him when he gets pulled into this tunnel," Leonardo pointed at a side tunnel, where the water frothed as it went over a spillway and into a narrower space.

Donatello scooped the boat out of the water and set it aside, then he and Raphael ran after the others. They totally ignored their father's warning sign on the way.

In the water, Brunelleschi finally realized his danger. He struggled against the current, eyes going wide and round. "Guys? I can't – guys!"

"It's okay, Bruno!" Leonardo called as he scrambled into the narrower tunnel. "It's okay, we're gonna get you out!"

"How, Leo?" Michaelangelo was right behind him, his gaze swinging wildly between Leonardo and Brunelleschi.

"You guys hold my hand, and anchor me!" Leonardo flung himself down on the edge of the concrete ledge, "and I'll grab him when he gets here, and pull him out!"

"Guys?" Brunelleschi was starting to panic. He struggled in the water, coughing and gasping as he tried in vain to get back in control.

"We'll get you out!" Raphael yelled. "Just calm down!"

"Bruno, it's gonna be okay!" Donatello called. "Reach for Leo!" He wrapped both hands around Leonardo's wrist and leaned back. "Reach for Leo's hand!"

Brunelleschi rolled over in the water. His head went under, and he came up coughing and gagging. His hand flailed wildly.

"Grab my hand!" Leonardo yelled. "Bruno, look at me!"

"Bruno!" Michaelangelo screamed.

Brunelleschi's hand wasn't even close to his brother's outstretched fingers.

Leonardo stretched even further out over the surface of the water, pulling against the grip that Donatello and Raphael had on his arm. "BRUNO!"

And then Master Splinter was there. He swept past the foursome on the ledge, shoving them back away from the edge of the water. His longer arm dipped down and clamped around the wrist of his struggling son, and dragged him out to drop him onto the cement. Brunelleschi coughed and retched and leaned on his brothers, blinking in astonishment.

Master Splinter's eyes swept over all five of them. Water from his wet sleeve spattered over all of the Turtles as he pointed firmly over their heads, back the way they'd come. "Go. Home. _Now_!" he ordered.

They slunk back along the cement ledge until they reached the low rock wall. Splinter fumed at them the entire way. "You are all grounded for a month! Brunelleschi, you are grounded for _two_ months, for going into the water when I specifically forbade it!"

"But Master Splinter, it wasn't our fault," Raphael burst out. "There was, there was…a giant octopus! And it grabbed the boat, and we hadda go get it – "

"Raphael!" Master Splinter stepped over the wall, his spine rigidly straight. "You are also grounded for two months, for lying to me. And lying _badly_, at that."

Donatello paused to scoop up his boat and remote, and ran to catch up to his brothers. Under his breath, he asked, "Does that mean it would be okay if he made a _good_ lie?"

Splinter's ears swiveled, but he acted like he hadn't heard the question. Raphael, after a hasty look at his father, smacked Donatello on the back of the head as the five little Turtles trudged after their sensei. "Shut up!"

* * *

><p>"See, it turned out okay," Renet argued. The colored lights from the Bowl flickered weakly over her face.<p>

"Did it?" Lord Simultaneous glared at her. "Did you bother to check the baseline? Do you know how that was supposed to turn out?"

Renet bit her lip and looked away.

"Did you even check?" he asked again, his voice steely. "Because I will _tell_ you what you are ignoring, young lady! If not for Brunelleschi's reckless dive into the water, and Master Splinter's ability to hear them screaming, things would have gone very differently. The boys would have run deeper into the tunnels, further away from home, to chase their toy. Raphael would have thrown a few more rocks into the water. Those rocks would have disturbed a crocodile swimming by – a certain mutant named Leatherhead. And while the boys ran back home without actually meeting Leatherhead, he would take out his anger on strangers in the tunnels – strangers who are actually the advance scouting party of a civilization that hunts down Utroms.

"But because of your interference, girl, that never happens! Leatherhead enjoys his swim in the tunnels, and finally goes back to his Utrom family just in time to step into the middle of a fight. And while he fights valiantly, the attackers are able to overwhelm him. And he dies, before the Utroms can rally." While Simultaneous spoke, the scene he described played out in the Bowl, in front of Renet's horrified eyes. He paused, and then said slowly, and with all the venom he could muster: "The Turtles will never meet Leatherhead. He will never be a part of their lives. Because of you."

The he shrugged, and said with mock casualness, "I suppose you could argue that it's for the best. By dying when and how he does, Leatherhead never has to endure the pain of separation from his family. It's not the argument I would make, but…maybe you are. Maybe you think this is better for him."

Renet shook her head. Tears stood in her eyes.

"Well, we're stuck now, aren't we?" Simultaneous shook the Bowl, still sealed to their fingers. "You've started this little experiment. Let's see what you did to everyone else."

* * *

><p>Four days after rescuing his son from almost drowning, Splinter again made his way back from the herbalist's shop with bags of stolen items to treat a sick child. As he came into the main room he called, "<em>Tadaima<em>!"*

Leonardo scrambled off the couch to face him. "_Okaerinasai, sensei_," he said solemnly. Raphael mumbled something that might have been the same greeting, but it was hard to tell since he didn't take his tired eyes off the television screen. He should not have been watching at all, since he was grounded, but Splinter had more pressing matters to think about. Michaelangelo was asleep on the floor in front of the screen – Splinter noticed that the child had been far too close to the screen before he fell asleep, but shrugged it off as well, in favor of the more critical issue at hand.

"Leonardo, get your brothers into bed while I tend to Donatello," Splinter ordered. Without waiting for a response, he hurried into the kitchen to set water on to boil, then into his bedroom to check on the child who had been sick with a wracking, painful cough for three days. For the last day Donatello had refused to eat or drink anything, because every swallow triggered another bout of coughing.

Splinter was not surprised to see that Donatello was not alone. "Brunelleschi, I told you to leave your brother alone to rest," he said sharply.

Brunelleschi started awake out of an uncomfortable doze. "He _is_ resting," the child mumbled defensively.

The Rat paused to study the situation before responding. Brunelleschi was sitting against the wall at the head of the bed, his shell pressed to the rough bricks. Donatello was propped up against his brother's plastron, his head lolling limply backwards onto Brunelleschi's shoulder. The sick child was deeply asleep, breathing through his slackly open mouth. As his father watched, Donatello coughed again in his sleep, whimpered pitifully, and stayed firmly asleep. "Well," Splinter said finally, "it is good that you have found a way to help him sleep."

Brunelleschi nodded without looking up at his father. He pulled the old, wash-softened blanket up around his brother's shoulders and wrapped his arms around Donatello to keep the fabric in place.

It should have been a greater source of relief, to know that Brunelleschi was helping his brother, but somehow it didn't reduce Splinter's anxiety at all. What if the cough was contagious? What if it was symptomatic of something worse, something that couldn't be cured with his stolen supplies?

The unexpected help bought him a few minutes to prepare his herbal remedies in the kitchen, however. When he returned with the steaming bowl, Brunelleschi looked at it with anxious eyes. "What is that?" he asked, shifting awkwardly against the bricks to get comfortable without disturbing his sleeping brother.

"Eucalyptus and mint leaves," Splinter replied absently, wafting the steam toward Donatello.

"Will it help?" Brunelleschi tightened his arms around his brother. "Does that make him better?"

"It will help his breathing. And when he wakes, I have another mixture for him to drink twice a day until the cough goes away."

"Oh." Brunelleschi seemed to consider this for a long moment. He sniffed at the steam, then freed one hand to help wave the vapors toward his brother. "What is it?"

"The mixture?" Splinter glanced down at the covered plastic cup that he had brought into the room when he returned from the kitchen. "Pepper and ginger, along with honey and vinegar. It will taste terrible, but it is very effective."

"And then he'll eat? And he'll be okay?" Brunelleschi finally met Splinter's eyes.

The Rat was struck by the desperate expression. "He will feel better soon. My son… what is this fear you have?"

Brunelleschi gulped and looked away again. He mumbled something that even Splinter's sharp hearing couldn't make out, and seemed very interested in the pattern woven into the old blanket.

"Speak clearly," Splinter set the bowl of mint and eucalyptus down carefully on the edge of the bed where the remnants of the steam could waft upwards to Donatello's face. "Never be afraid to speak clearly. And be careful of the bowl!"

Brunelleschi froze, hardly daring to move his eyes down to glance at the bowl. His hands tightened on the blanket. "I said, this is all my fault!" he said loudly.

"Is it?" Splinter quirked an eyebrow at him.

"It is!" the child seemed determined. "It's all my fault Donnie is sick! I gotta get him better, or maybe it would be okay if I got sick, 'cause he'd be better, and – "

"Stop!" Splinter held up one hand.

Brunelleschi gulped again and fell silent. His eyes flicked to his father and away, repeatedly.

"First of all, it would solve nothing for you to also fall ill," Splinter wanted to clear that up immediately. "That would not make Donatello magically better, it would simply mean that there would be two sick Turtles instead of one. Do you see, my son? You must learn to think of these things sensibly and carefully. A man – a ninja – must be clear-eyed about reality."

The child frowned faintly and rubbed the side of his head gently against his brother.

"And second of all – why do you believe that you are responsible for Donatello's illness?"

There was a moment of silence, while Brunelleschi gaped at his father openly. His sense of guilt was so strong that he had clearly never put it into words, and so he struggled to explain himself. "I just…I…Donnie got sick the same day that I fell into the water! He was okay when we went to play, and then he was sick when we went to bed!"

"So you think that you are responsible for that?"

"Well…yeah."

Splinter paused to reflect that he simply didn't understand how the world could look to a child. "Again, my son – think carefully. Why would _Donatello_ get sick because _you_ fell in the water?"

"It's my fault!" he insisted.

The Rat tried again. "When you were sick with a cold at Christmas, whose fault was that?"

Brunelleschi blinked. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Finally he sputtered out, "That wasn't anybody's fault! Nobody was bad or anything, 'cause it was Christmas. I was just sick, 'cause sometimes it happens…oh."

Splinter did not let the smile show on his face as he watched the realization dawn on his son. "Yes," he said. "Sometimes children – and parents – simply get sick, and it is no one's 'fault'. It just happens." He studied the children in front of him. Donatello seemed to be sleeping easier, and hadn't coughed again during the treatment. Brunelleschi was absorbed in some kind of inner struggle. "Do you agree with me, my son, that you have tried to take on too much blame here? You are responsible for your own actions, but you are not responsible for everything that happens."

"I guess," the child mumbled, still working through his guilt. Something struck him, and he looked up at Splinter with clear eyes. "But I can help Donnie get better, right? I can help him feel better?"

It was hard to resist such an expression. "Yes, of course," Splinter squashed his own fears that the illness was contagious. _At this point, it can hardly matter,_ he admitted ruefully to himself. "I will teach you how to use the herbs and other things to help your brother feel better."

"Good," Brunelleschi nodded, satisfied.

* * *

><p>"Well, at least no one died this time," Simultaneous announced. "Though it wouldn't have surprised me if someone did, considering how much you've messed up everything."<p>

Renet said nothing. Her face was drawn and pale.

The Bowl of Infinite Options showed no sign of being ready to release them, and Lord Simultaneous sighed. "Of course, it looks like we haven't come to the end of the changes we have to see. I wonder who else is going to die at the wrong time?" He said it as cruelly as he could manage, which was quite a bit, considering all the years he'd had to practice.

Renet sobbed once, but said nothing, as the story continued to unfold in front of them.

_* __**Tadaima**__ – "I'm back", a traditional Japanese word said when returning home; __**Okaerinasai**__ – "Welcome home."_


	4. Chapter 4

****_Just something short, to get the creative juices flowing again. I know how the story ends, but getting there has been harder than I expected it to be! _

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4: Pre-adolescence<strong>

"I don't wanna do this anymore," Renet sobbed after a long period of trying to get herself under control. She struggled to get her fingers free of the bowl. "Master, make it stop! I don't wanna do this, I don't wanna see anymore!"

Simultaneous wrenched the bowl back into the correct position so he could see into it. "Too late, girl," he said grimly. "And you know it. Once you start something with the Bowl of Infinite Options, you can't short-cut. You have to go all the way to the end, and see all of the ramifications of the option."

* * *

><p>"...and be <em>careful<em>, my sons!" Splinter finished his list of advice to his sons, who clustered by the door in an impatient knot. His attempt to look stern and thereby impress his warnings on their minds was somewhat ruined, however, by an outbreak of the coughing that had plagued him for a week.

Leonardo, at least, was still paying attention to their ill father. "We will, sensei," he said solemnly, and bowed. At ten years old, he was beginning to resist childish behaviors and strive for what he imagined was an increased maturity. Splinter encouraged this, because it was both necessary and inevitable, even if it did make him a little sad to realize how quickly his children were growing up.

The rest of Splinter's sons didn't seem to struggle as much against their own childishness yet, which was the main reason that Splinter hesitated before releasing them on their errand. He swept an anxious eye over all five of them. Were they too young? Too loud? Was it a bad idea to allow them to go, all together, to a place that they had visited before, with him? Should he insist that two or three of them stay home with him, to impress upon them the importance of the maturity that would be needed? Would they remember their way, or would they get lost?

Was this the worst idea he had ever had, as a parent?

"Very well," Splinter said abruptly, before he could change his mind and disappoint them. "You have three hours before I will come looking for you."

They bolted out the door, grinning hugely. Leonardo barely remembered to pull the heavy slab shut behind them.

In the sudden silence, Splinter sighed. Then he coughed again, until he was dizzy, and cursed the illness. _In three hours, I will be in no better condition, _he admitted to himself ruefully, and shuffled off to his bed. _If they do not come home, then I..._

He couldn't finish the thought. It chilled him more than the illness.

Splinter sat in the rumpled layers of his own bed and listened to the silence of the Lair. It was literally the first time in almost ten years that he had been completely alone in his own home. The lack of noise, motion, a light from the other room or the "outside" area - it was oppressive. He could feel the weight of the earth above him as he never had before.

_I do not like being here alone, _he decided at last.

It was a thought he would never share with his sons.

With another sigh, Splinter settled down to wait - anxiously - for the return of the light and liveliness that made the underground space into a home.

* * *

><p>"You still have the list of what we need at the herb shop, Bruno?" Leonardo asked over his shoulder as they ran through the dry tunnel.<p>

"Um...I think so?" Brunelleschi patted frantically at the pouch that hung on his belt.

"I _saw_ you put it in there," Donatello called from his position as rear guard. He frowned. "I swear, Bruno, you'd lose your head if it wasn't attached."

"Found it!" Bruno ignored his brother and waved the paper in the air - the list that Master Splinter had written out and handed to them as he explained their errand.

Raphael snatched the list out of Brunelleschi's hand. "Gimme that! You'll just lose it, and then we'll have to go back and tell Splinter - "

"**Master **Splinter," Leonardo cut in.

"- that we lost his list and failed," Raphael continued like he didn't know it upset Leo to hear his brothers omit the proper title for their sensei. "And then he'll never let us go out without him again. We'll be really old, like twenty, before he stops holding our hands like babies."

They all sobered a little bit at that thought. Twenty years old! It seemed so far away, and it would be terrible to still be treated like little kids then.

Then Michaelangelo tripped and staggered into Bruno on purpose, and the moment was over. Leonardo scolded his brothers for being so careless. Don and Raph snickered, then accepted their own scolding in turn, and they all kept running to their destination: the herb shop Splinter had grown accustomed to raiding when he needed medicines for his children. They only took a little bit at a time, and left what little cash they scrounged beneath the street grates (risky, because they might be seen) or the subway platforms (even more risky, because they were even more likely to be seen - or struck by a train.) Splinter used the rare trips as an excuse to lecture whichever sons were allowed to accompany him on the ethics and morals of what they had to do to survive, and hoped that the lessons sank in.

Leonardo, at least, was prone to pondering his father's words. "I hope we brought enough money," he said fretfully, thinking about the double handful of coins and paper bills that weighed down the pouch on his belt.

"We always do," Mike shrugged with totally unconcerned cheer. "How much can some smelly leaves and roots cost, anyway?"

"Quite a bit, really," Donatello said. "If you looked at the prices on the bins, and then figured out how much we're taking from each one, you could do the math."

"We never know how much we're taking - we never stop to weigh any of it," Bruno pointed out. "There are all those little scales everywhere, but we just scoop stuff into a bag and run."

"It's not like anybody wants to spend any more time in there than we have to," Raphael added. "It smells. And if we stopped to 'do the math', nerd-brain, we'd be in there too long and we'd get caught."

"We're going to get caught anyway if you guys don't pipe down," Leonardo hissed, interrupting Don's angry retort to Raph. He came to a stop in front of a series of long metal rungs set into the concrete of the tunnel wall. The lowest rung was still high enough that he had to stretch to wrap his fingers around it. "Okay, we're here. We know what to do when we get inside. Get in, grab what Master Splinter needs, and get out."

"We _know_, Leo," Raphael surged forward past Bruno and Mike. "It's not that complicated. Get a move on!"

"Stop it, Raph!" Leo pushed back. "It's not that complicated, but it is that important. We can't mess this up! It's our first real ninja-style mission."

"Oh, wow, I didn't think of it that way!" Mike's eyes got round.

"Well, you should think of it that way," Leonardo was determined to impress this on his brothers. "We've got to start taking these things seriously, and doing everything we can to be as, as..." he didn't know how to express it in English. "_Ganbaru_," he said finally, hoping that the use of Japanese would let his brothers know how important this was.

Don's eyes went thoughtful, and he nodded. Mike and Bruno looked blank. And Raphael was not impressed. "C'mon, Leo, you're makin' a big deal out of this and it's not that complicated! Let's go!"

"Fine, fine," Leo grumbled and pulled himself up the ladder. There was only so much he could do, after all.

They all climbed up after him, though they were not silent at all. Leo cringed and hoped that Master Splinter hadn't secretly followed them. He listened carefully for any noises through the heavy metal manhole cover, then lifted it as carefully and quietly as he could once it seemed safe.

The five brothers crouched in the shadows of a narrow six-storey building that was just one of an uneven row of buildings backing onto the alley. The uncovered, overflowing dumpster nearby reeked of trash, as usual, but it was different than most dumpsters in New York City - in addition to the smells of trash, there was a perpetual odor of dirt and herbs. "We're here," Bruno whispered unnecessarily. Something slid off of the piled plastic bags in the over-full dumpster toward his head, but he dodged it. "What is that thing?" he frowned at the sharp metal edges of the rectangular thing that had almost hit him, then shrugged the question off.

Don darted over to pick the lock while his brothers spread out to keep watch. But after a minute, he called quietly, "Guys? There's something wrong."

"What is it?"

"There's no lock tonight. The door's wide open."

His brothers converged on the door, which swung open noisily under Don's hand. For a long minute they just stood there, looking into the darkness at the back of the herb shop.

"Do we go in?" Mike asked no one in particular.

Leo shook himself out of his confusion at finding this change in the plan. "We do," he said firmly. Then he added, "But quietly! Keep an eye out for anything unusual, and be ready to bolt out of there if I say so."

"The door being open already wasn't unusual enough?" Don mumbled.

They crept in cautiously. The familiar smells of herbs wafted around them, but not as strongly as expected. Their footsteps, not as quiet as they should have been, echoed in the high corners of the ceiling of the unexpectedly empty room. There was nothing inside but the fixed shelves and the ancient wooden cabinets. Even the blinds were gone.

"Where did everything go?" Mike wondered out loud.

"Outta business," Raphael sighed. "Figures. What do we do now?" He picked up a broken plastic cup from one of the deep shelves, examined it in the faint light that came from the uncovered windows, and then tossed it aside.

"How can they be out of business? We need stuff from here!" Brunelleschi slapped his hand down in a pile of dust on the counter where the cash register used to be. He glanced under the counter. "Nothing here but an open box of lightbulbs."

Don crept close to the windows at the front of the shop and peeked out at the street. "Maybe we can find another place like this?"

"Yes," Leo said firmly. "Another place. We can't go back with nothing - Master Splinter is sick. Don, do you see anything?"

They all crowded up to the edge of the light coming through the windows. The idea of looking out into the street, seeing it openly, was almost irresistible - and almost enough to overcome their deeply ingrained fears of being seen and captured. Don swept his gaze up and down the street and reported back to his brothers what he saw. "There's a grocer's shop on the corner...dry cleaners...couple of restaurants? I dunno, guys, I don't see anything obvious."

"Out," Leonardo ordered. "Let's get out of here before we get seen."

Reluctantly, Don left the view from the windows and followed his brothers back through the depths of the narrow building. "What do we do now?" he echoed Mike's earlier question while the door swung shut behind them.

"We search the neighborhood. There has to be another shop like this around here somewhere - I'm sure I've seen one when Master Splinter brought me here a year or two ago. We'll start on this block, then search the next one." Leo's look of determination didn't quite fool his brothers. He was making things up, and straying from their orders, and he didn't like it one bit.

Raphael was delighted with the plan in spite of Leo's misgivings. "Awesome! We get more topside time!"

"I dunno, guys," Bruno scuffed at the gravel next to the dumpster. "Maybe we should go home and tell Master Splinter first?"

"It would take all night! We could find what we need and be home, in the time it would take us to go back, make a new plan, and start all over!"

"And it's not like this is just an exercise - Splinter really is sick," Donatello added.

"But what if we get in trouble?" Brunelleschi argued back.

They all paused to consider it. It was every child's fear: _'we could get in trouble'. _ It was a loaded phrase that Leo used on them all the time, something to make mischievious brothers behave, or to warn them when things were getting out of hand. He was usually right when he said it, too. Like all other children, the Turtles had a healthy respect for the idea of _'getting in trouble'_.

Then Raphael shook it off with a start. "We're not gonna get in trouble!" he insisted firmly. "We're solvin' problems, is all. Aren't we supposed to do that? Leo, isn't Master Splinter always tellin' us to think, and figure stuff out?"

"Show initiative," Leo thought back to some of his most recent lessons from Splinter, and nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah. This is the right way to do it." The uncertainty faded from his face. "We're not doing anything wrong, Bruno."

He never could resist a united front from the other four. "Let's go, then."

But as he stepped forward to join his brothers, Brunelleschi's foot caught in something from the dumpster and he yelped. More metal things slid off the top of the heaped trash in the dumpster and clattered to the ground. Bruno dodged, but one of the bits of metal caught him on the arm. "Ow!"

"Klutz!" Raphael laughed. "You just got attacked by garbage!"

"Yeah, and he's bleeding, Raph," Don grabbed Bruno's arm and held it up for a better view in the weak light. "It's not too bad. We should wrap it up before it gets infected, though."

"What did you trip on?" Mike wondered.

"Power cord," Bruno reported. He tightened his toes around it and dragged it forward. "See? It's part of these metal boxes."

"What in the world?" Don let go of Bruno's arm in favor of the more interesting things to examine. He turned one over in his hands, carefully noting the sharp corners.

"They look like gigantic cake pans."

"They're grow lights," Don said finally. "I think...I saw these in the upstairs of the shop, a long time ago. They hung them over tables, and used them to grow herbs in trays."

"Well, they're not growin' anything now," Raphael knocked the light out of his brother's hands. "C'mon, let's get moving!"

"Wait a second." Bruno grabbed the light before it could strike the gravel. "Just wait! Donnie...these lights are to grow plants? So you don't have to have sunlight?"

"Yeah," Donatello looked doubtful. "That's what I think they are, anyway."

"They prolly don't work, or the humans wouldn't've thrown them out," Raphael rolled his eyes. "If these people had been any good at growin' stuff, they wouldn't be out of business. Put it down, and get your shells in gear." He moved to grab the light again, this time out of Brunelleschi's hands. He scowled when his brother jumped back away from him, still clutching the metal frame of the light.

"Just wait a second," Bruno pleaded. "Leo - what if we could make them work? What if...what if we could grow stuff for ourselves, and then we wouldn't have to get it this way?"

Leonardo, who had been about to intervene in the scuffle in favor of Raphael, paused. "So we wouldn't have to make trips like this in an emergency? We'd have what we need at home, whenever we need it?"

"Yeah!" Bruno's face lit up in a smile. "We wouldn't have to break in, or worry if we left enough money, or if we got the right stuff or enough of it. We'd have it at home!"

"Maybe, if this stuff can even be fixed," Don picked up another one of the fallen grow lights and examined it as best he could. "It seems pretty simple. It's just a light fixture."

"And I saw the lightbulbs inside!" Bruno crowed. "We could fix them up, get them working again, and grow our own herbs!"

"One more excuse never to leave the tunnels," Raphael groused.

"Don't we need to learn all this stuff anyway?" Mike wondered out loud. "All this picking locks, and being sneaky and ninja-y - that's kinda what we're supposed to be doing, bros!"

"But we'll always have reasons to do that," Leo countered. "Not going scrounging for herbs doesn't mean we never get to leave the lair, it just means we'll leave for other reasons. And...I like the idea that we have what we need at home, without having to be gone for a while when somebody is sick." He nodded, his mind made up. "Donnie, you and Bruno gather up whatever you can and get it back underground."

"Me?" Donatello was irritated. "Why do I have to stay here on dumpster-diving duty?"

"Because you're the best one to decide if any of this stuff will ever work again," Leonardo pointed out reasonably. Even at ten years old, Don had a gift for figuring out what was wrong with a machine, and if it could be made to work, and the whole family knew it. "And it was Bruno's idea, so he stays, too. Besides...Raph needs to practice picking locks. We'll be back in 30 minutes."

The other two were already fading into the shadows. Their grins were the last things visible in the alley. "I need practice?" Raphael's voice floated through the darkness. "Tell you what, Leo, I bet I can..." the rest of his challenge was lost under the sounds of city traffic as they disappeared.

Donatello sighed. He really liked picking locks. "C'mon, Bruno, let's get to work..."

* * *

><p>Splinter had fallen into a light doze by the time the Turtles came home. He awoke with a start that was only partially caused by the noise of clanging metal, and partially by the more familiar sound of siblings arguing.<p>

"Where are we supposed to put these stupid things?"

"Put them in our room for now, and I'll work on them."

"Are you gonna make our room smell like the herb shops? I can't sleep in that!"

"There's not enough room in there!"

"There'd be plenty of room, if somebody didn't try to take over the whole room with his toys!"

"My toys don't take up as much room as your stupid targets!"

"My targets are more useful than this junk is ever gonna be!"

"We hauled it all down here, let's not break it now. Put that down, before you - "

"He's bending it! Don't bend it!"

"I'll bend it if I wanna - "

Splinter could tell from their voices that his sons were collectively approaching the moment when a squabble could turn into a brawl, and flew out of his room to put a stop to it. "Boys!" he said firmly.

And then had to bend double with the force of his coughing.

It served to divert their attention from whatever had them so agitated, though. They froze, all of them looking at him with round, shocked eyes. Several metal things clattered to the ground. Splinter didn't get a good look at their new prizes before they all scattered in different directions, fetching him blankets, hot water to steep the herbs in, or guiding him to the low, patched sofa to rest.

It was another hour before things settled down enough for him to hear the whole story. He sipped at the bitter tea made from the herbs they'd found at another shop, and allowed Brunelleschi and Donatello to show him the lights and explain their plans for using them. "Very good thinking, my sons," he said approvingly. "It will be good to have what we need on hand."

Brunlleschi ran one hand fondly over the light nearest him, and smiled. "This is gonna be fun."

* * *

><p>"That...that wasn't too bad?" Renet sniffed hopefully.<p>

"It wasn't," Simultaneous admitted. The whole thing had been rather charming, in fact. "But the Bowl doesn't always show disasters, girl."

Renet's face lit up.

Simultaneous wasn't finished. "Sometimes it shows you something good that changed, like this, to lull you into a false sense of security. And _then _it shows you the disaster!"

Renet's face fell again.


End file.
